A Bundle of Mannies

by Lorelei M. Hart

  But as to my relationship with this alpha, there was no need to feel any shame. He treated me as an equal, with respect, and I wanted him to know how much I valued that—and how much that meant, I didn’t want to treat what was between us as if it were something to hide.

  But the truly shameless part?

  The ice cream freezers had held the yumminess at a perfect temperature all night and the other perishable—the whipped cream—had been in ice buckets that in the air-conditioned room were still full of icy water. We had all the ingredients for the breakfast of champions. Or the breakfast of whatever news we were going to break to the kids being something they were too hopped up on hot fudge to be unhappy about.

  I suppose we could have told them later, but I wanted the privileges that couples’ status came with. For example, holding hands. I wanted to sit on the bus and hold my lover’s hand. As we headed out to get the kids, I did just that and brought our linked fingers up to press a kiss on the back of his hand. “You’re amazing, you know. Before we do this, are you sure you want to tell them? Are you positive you want me full-time and forever in your life?”

  He bent and pressed his lips to mine. “I thought I loved Iliana, and I have had other relationships, but I never knew what it meant to have one true mate, one person who is exactly meant for me, until you. So, now that I do, why would I ever want to let you go?”

  “It’s just, you know, my job wasn’t exactly kid friendly?”

  He tilted his head. “Not kid friendly. I suppose not, since you worked nights, right?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Well, so do I. And if you want to go back to work after the baby comes, we’ll need to hire another manny to work some evenings I suppose. Although it would suck if you couldn’t travel with me. But we both need to do what fulfills us.”

  “But if I went back, you wouldn’t mind?”

  “You’re just as entitled to a career as I am.”

  He was either the most understanding alpha in the world, or something about this conversation was wrong. But before I could puzzle it out, the door of the family suite opened to reveal complete havoc. Clothing and toys everywhere, pizza boxes littering the furniture. It looked more like a rock band ruckus than a kids’ sleepover.

  And Rich looked like he hadn’t had five minutes of sleep.

  “Hiya,” my alpha who hadn’t had much himself but looked very rested said. “Are Bowie and Jagger ready to come home? I hope they were good.”

  Rich gave him a steely eyed look and stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. “You did it, didn’t you?”

  “Did what?” I asked, trying to seem innocent and I was sure failing.

  “Don’t even.” Rich rubbed a hand over his unshaven jaw and shook his head. “I said you wouldn’t, but Freddie said you would.”

  His husband opened the door and slipped out, also closing the door. “Well, did they?”

  “They did.”

  Okay, we might have both smirked, but the back-slapping cheers from Freddie and Rich did seem over-the-top for other people’s sexy times. Still, it was hard not to get into the mood, and soon the doors along the corridor opened and the other band members spilled out. Luckily most of the crew was on a different floor, but the gossip would be around the whole bus by the time we boarded, so it was lucky we were planning to tell the twins soon.

  When the cacophony died down, Judson cleared his throat. “If everyone is well enough informed about our personal life, do you think you could all shut your yaps while we take the twins downstairs and tell them about it? It actually does affect their lives.”

  Another roar or two and then silence descended. I’d hoped they’d all go back in their rooms but no such luck. We walked Bowie and Jagger along a gauntlet of smiling-but-silent rock and rollers and their significant entourage members all the way to the elevator and, as the doors slid closed, a whoop followed us.

  I bit my lip, wanting to wait until the twins were indulging in a breakfast that would have them bouncing off the walls before filling them in but as the doors opened on our floor, Jagger asked, “Are you and Edwin going to have sleepovers every night now, Daddy?”

  And he said… “Yes.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Judson

  Just as I had said, the boys already knew we “kissy-face-liked” each other well before there was actually any kissy facing to be had. They had enough friends from split homes where moms and dads dated other people or in a few cases married other people, and they took it as no big deal, going so far as to ask if Edwin was Uncle Edwin, which was apparently how their friend Lionel’s family did it.

  We told them no because if Edwin was their uncle, he was my brother and they ewwwwed and we moved onto more important topics, at least in the eyes of the boys—bikes.

  And that was that. From that day on, Edwin and I would hold hands when we felt like it, smooch as we wished, and shared a bed on nights when space would allow, the bus nights not being one of them. Freddie went so far as to make sure we had two-bedroom suites when we stayed in hotels. Nothing felt awkward or weird except the doctor’s visits.

  The doctor on tour, Dr. Smith, had been sure he’d be fine with the prenatal care. What he hadn’t made clear at the time was that he assumed Edwin was newly pregnant and not four months along, and after the first trimester, he got more and more unsure of what he should be doing. So sure, there were daily blood pressure checks and some peeing in cups to test for I didn’t even know what, but Edwin had still not listened to the heartbeat the entire tour and he was rounding on six months pregnant, when most people had already seen their wee one on an ultrasound.

  “We are going to be in LA for five days.” I sat across from Edwin on the bus as the kids watched a movie. “I was thinking maybe we could try and sneak out one day for some fun kid attraction one day and maybe see if we can find you a real baby doctor another?”

  I’d already decided well before then that if the kids were going to be traveling, they might as well see the sights, but this was the first time when the stars aligned and I might be able to go with them, and I was practically giddy. The fun part of doing multiple shows at the same venue was one setup, giving me the time to do all the fun things.

  The doctor thing—it just sort of spilled out of my mouth before I could even process if it was doable.

  “That could be fun. With the kids, I mean.” He sucked his bottom lip in with his teeth. “Do you think we could?” He didn’t need to clarify what. The slight quake in his voice told me it wasn’t about hitting up an indoor playplace.

  “Freddie has a ton of connections, and Simon does also.” They’d both been so beyond supportive of us this entire trip. “Want me to ask?”

  He gave a nod and before we reached our new home for five days, an appointment at an OB complete with ultrasound lab was set up. It was amazing what money could buy.

  ***

  “I don’t have to go in with you,” I reassured him as I opened our taxi door and climbed out before offering him a hand, which he took, something even two weeks ago he might’ve refused. Pregnancy was a weird thing and, while he hadn’t even looked pregnant a few weeks ago, all of a sudden it was the first thing people noticed about him. We needed to stop and pick up some new clothing for him on the way back to the hotel because nothing would fit soon.

  Not even going to pretend I didn’t love watching him grow with his babe. We hadn’t talked about what that all meant yet, his babe not being mine. To me, it didn’t matter. If he allowed me to, I’d love him or her as my own. Yeah, some conversations were needed.

  “And if you prefer not to, that is fine, but I’d love to have you there.” And that was all the reassurance I needed.

  We walked inside, his folder full of papers already filled out held tightly in his hands. The receptionist took them, giving him a few more because there can never be enough paperwork, and he’d barely signed the last one when he was called back. Funny how differently things work when you a
re considered an A-lister visiting a Beverly Hills specialist. Not that we were A-listers, but the conditions surrounding us getting the appointment wouldn’t give them any reason to think otherwise. Even if the appointment alone probably cost a good chunk of my month’s wages.

  They did the typical blood pressure and pee in a cup thing and had us waiting in the ultrasound room for both the doctor and the technician.

  “Are you ready?” I asked him as he stared at all the machines.

  “What if they say something is wrong?” The fear that sits just below the surface of all of these appointments no matter who you are and what the reason hung in his voice. Ultrasounds were both the most exhilarating and terrifying things.

  “Then we will figure it out.”

  “We. I like that.” He leaned his head against my chest.

  “I do, too.” I kissed the top of his head as the doctor just waltzed in, no pretense of knocking.

  “Hello, Dads, I’m Doctor Lizarus, and it sounds like we are here to see a baby today.” He looked more like he’d stepped out of a soap opera set than a real doctor, but his smile was kind, and he came highly recommended so it worked for me. Plus, he called me Dad, and that mushed my heart far more than it should.

  “The doctor I have been seeing is not a specialist,” Edwin explained, a tinge of guilt hitting his voice.

  “As is common in your line of work. Traveling on tour leads to some interesting routines. I’m sure all is good.” He patted the table. “Up with you, and I’ll see what’s taking Madeline so long.” He left and came back momentarily with a short grandmotherly type woman complete with glasses on the tip of her nose. “Madeline will do the scan and I’ll talk you through it as she does.”

  And that was what he did from where all of the baby’s little fingers were and tiny nose and everything in between. It was awesome in the truest sense of the word. Edwin’s baby was perfect, absolutely perfect just like he was.

  “So that leaves the burning question; would you like to know if you are having a little boy or a little girl?” the doctor asked both of us, having to know from the records that I was just along for the ride, at least based on societal norms.

  “I think I want to be surprised?” Edwin spoke with a hint of question in his voice after a long pause.

  “Tell you what, I will have Madeline write it down and put it in a sealed envelope in case you want to know later.”

  “Thank you.” Edwin moved to sit up.

  “Let me get this gel off first.” He wiped Edwin’s middle with a cloth and offered him a hand. “Do you have any questions?”

  “I don’t think so.” Dr. Lizarus had given so much information along the way, I had a feeling even if he did have a question he wouldn’t realize it until a week later and the doctor must’ve assumed the same thing, handing both of us his card as Edwin pulled down his shirt, now sitting on the edge of the exam table.

  “If you have any questions about anything at all. I also would like to give you a lab slip to make sure all your levels are where they need to be.” He held out his hand, and Madeline placed a lab slip in it, which he in turn passed to Edwin. “You can call for those results if you want, or just know that if we don’t call you, all is fine.”

  “What are all these for? I thought you said things looked fine.” Edwin turned the page around and pointed to I wasn’t sure what.

  “Those are because your former job is considered high risk.”

  “Oh,” was all Edwin said to that and my solitary focus until we had his labs drawn and were outside.

  “What was that about?” I asked when we were free of nosey ears.

  “He thinks that because I danced, I was a whore is all.” Edwin shrugged. How could anyone make that leap—oh.

  “You aren’t a ballet dancer, are you?” How had I missed that? Not that he’d ever told me he was or even implied he did anything fancy schmancy. I’d just assumed. Would it have changed anything? I’d like to think not.

  “Only if by ballet you mean pole dancing for money.”

  I grabbed his hands, the fear in his voice making me want to envelop him in my arms and never let him go, but this was a conversation that needed eye contact.

  “You didn’t know?”

  “They said dancer and I almost didn’t bring you, thinking you were using the position to get on a tour.” How messed up would that have been. He’d been nowhere near a groupie. Sure, I didn’t love his old job. In fact, I kind of hated it, but I had shitastic jobs in the past, too, but not all jobs define you. “I wouldn’t have had to worry if I knew you were dancing dancing.”

  “So this doesn’t change anything?” A tear trickled down his cheek, and I wiped it away with my thumb.

  “Oh, hell yeah it does.” I kissed his lips softly. “I changed my mind about getting you a manny so you can go back to that job.” His eyes widened at my words. “I’m correct that you didn’t love it—right?” Because if he did, I wasn’t sure what I’d do. I’d never want to get in the way of his passions, and if dancing in that form was his—I didn’t want to think about it, and thankfully I didn’t need to because he answered me swiftly and definitively.

  “I very much did not.”

  “I’m so glad because I want you and this glorious body to be all mine.” And even though the thought of him needing money so badly he would do that churned my stomach, it changed how I felt about him not at all.

  “My ginormous body, you mean.” He bumped me with his growing belly.

  “No! Glorious, baby bump and all.” I gave in and pulled him into my embrace the way I’d longed to since we left the office. “Now, let’s go get you some clothing. That baby is only going to get bigger.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Edwin

  Funny, but once Judson knew about my former job, it was so easy to talk to him about what I had really wanted to do as a dancer. Not that I had been aware he didn’t know before, but it wasn’t a topic I’d wanted to bring up especially since he didn’t. I just figured that he thought it was something better forgotten.

  But once we spoke during our LA layover, I found myself opening up more about the career I’d once wanted. Although I had thought any chance of achieving any of those dreams was over, my amazing alpha told me that after the baby came, I should think about it more, see what direction I wanted to go in. I was even thinking about opening a little studio to teach the skills I’d spent so many years learning. But as the tour wound down, and I grew bigger and more ungainly every day, the chances of having a dancer’s body again, or even seeing my own dick seemed remote.

  But no matter how depressed I got when I stood naked in front of a hotel mirror, Judson just said I was sexier and sexier, and on the rare occasions when we were actually alone would show me just how he felt. One night toward the end of the tour, when the boys were sound asleep in their room, I stepped—waddled—into the huge master shower of our suite. It was one of those open ones with a drain in the middle of the bathroom floor. The multiple showerheads were magic for working out aches and pains, and I needed that so much. Every day I was less comfortable, and Dr. Smith just told me that it would all be better one day if I just avoided too much salt and took a daily walk.

  I wondered if the slightly absentminded doctor knew about my potato chip stash in my bunk on the bus. Family-sized bags. I wondered if Judson knew.

  Turning to find better places for the spray to hit, I came face-to-face with my alpha who stood just inside the bathroom door, holding up three bags of chips, a frown furrowing his brow. Oopsy.

  “Hi, Judson. Shower snacks?”

  He shook his head and dropped the bags in the sink. “You know the doctor says all the salt is not good for you. You don’t want high blood pressure.”

  “My BP is fine,” I defended.

  “So far, but your ankles are pretty swollen, aren’t they?”

  “Uhh… A little. It’s probably all the restaurant food. You know they oversalt.”

  He glowered and I
took a step back, coming up against the wall. “So you thought you’d just add as much salt and grease as possible? For bloating and heartburn.”

  What could I possibly say to that? “Uh, no. Yes. Shit, I get hungry.”

  “And don’t I stock the bus fridge with fruits and vegetables for you to snack on?”

  “That’s not what the baby wants to snack on.”

  “Sure.” He shook his head and gave a little laugh. “Can I get you to at least alternate healthy and unhealthy eating? I don’t like seeing you uncomfortable.”

  Dammit. He was just too nice to me, always putting my needs first. And despite how busy he was, he’d taken the time to cut up all those fruits when I said, last time we had this conversation, that it was too much trouble to do it myself. And how did I repay this kindness? My lower lip quivered and a big tear rolled down my nose. I didn’t think he could see it with the multiple shower sprays all around, but before I could blink away the next one, he was right there, still in his pajama bottoms, hugging me and whispering that it would all be all right.

  “Don’t cry, omega. I know it’s hard to be on the bus all the time and eating so much fast food when you’d probably prefer home-cooked meals. We’ll be home soon.” He peppered my face with kisses that soon landed on my lips and went from comforting to passionate.

  When we parted, panting, I said, “Your pants are all wet. And tented.” I might have been smirking.

  “I can take care of both of those things.” And in the blink of an eye, his sopping pants were across the floor and he was back up against me, turning me to face away from him and pressing kisses over my spine. He caressed my front while his rigid cock prodded at my back. “You always make me hard, omega. Mmm. Looks like you have a problem, too.” Stroking and squeezing, he worked my cock with one hand while his other urged me to bend toward the wall then parted my ass cheeks. “Mmm, always so slick for me.”